Goodbye, Mistah J
by Steve Shives
Summary: Harley Quinn has abducted the Joker. Batman suspects she intends to kill him. Will Batman and Robin catch up to her in time to stop her? Do they even want to?


He's thinking, what happened?

How did I get here?

Where is here, anyway?

His head is pounding. Ropes wound tight around his ankles scratch his skin. The weight of his own body pulls him down, cutting off his circulation.

Who did this? Who could have done this?

He feels his blood rushing into his throbbing skull.

That'll do wonders for my complexion, he's thinking. The familiar swell of amusement rises in his chest, and he opens his mouth to let out a comfortable scream of laughter.

He hears a door open. Light floods in from behind him.

Footsteps echo, moving closer. She walks around in front of him and stands there, looking down at him as he tilts his head to look up at her.

"Hi ya, Puddin'," she says.

She's holding a gun.

He's laughing.

— — —

Robin stares out the window, elbow propped up on the armrest, cheek leaning into his palm. The city is passing by in a blur on the other side of the tinted glass. "So. What are we doing?" he asks.

"CCTV photographed her car near Adams Port a few hours ago," Batman says. "Our best best is to start looking there."

"Right," says Robin. "But why?"

Batman gives Robin a sideways glance. "She matches the description of the woman who stole a few dozen piranhas from an exotic pet store this afternoon."

"And Hank, the owner of the pet store, was positive it was Harley because as she was on her way out the door with the piranhas, he yelled at her to not forget the fish food. She came back in and stole an armful of that, and he got a real good look at her." Robin snorts. "He needed a second look to be sure. Well, at least Hank's an animal lover. I'm sure the fish appreciate that."

"Needles told us he saw fish with red bellies in those tanks in the back seat of her car when the Joker was abducted," Batman says.

"And before she sped away she told Needles to say goodbye to Mister J," Robin says, nodding along.

"Put it all together and there's only one thing she could be planning." Batman tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "He's finally pushed her too far."

Robin turns away from the window. He sits up straight in his seat. "I appreciate the review, but I wasn't prompting you for exposition. I was questioning why we're racing to his rescue."

"We're racing to capture them both," says Batman firmly, "before they hurt anyone else."

"Which I'm 100% onboard with," says Robin. "But if you're right and she's planning to kill him, we'd be doing the city a big favor by just letting her do it, wouldn't we?"

Batman shoots him another side-eye, then goes back to watching the road.

"I'm not saying we ought to kill him," Robin says, pressing on. "The no-kill rule is a good rule. But she's taken this out of our hands. And given who we're talking about, isn't this a special case where we shouldn't be in such a hurry to stop her?"

Batman's eyes narrow beneath his cowl. "What makes this a special case?"

Robin sighs. "How many lives has he taken? Hundreds? Thousands? Is there even a count? Mayor Dickerson, Lt. Probson, Detective Patton, Captain Essen." He turns to look at Batman. "Jason."

Batman watches the road in silence.

"You're not allowing for all the possibilities," he says finally. "Let's say she kills him. He can't hurt anyone else. Fine. But let's say she doesn't. She has a change of heart, he talks her out of it, and because we drag our feet in getting there, they escape and go on to add to that body count you're trying to stop. Or she tries to go through with it, but he escapes, and before he flees the scene he kills her, then he kills who knows how many others before we finally catch him. All because you decided this one was a special case."

Robin turns back to the window. "I see your point."

"It's not because he deserves to be saved," Batman says. "It's because they're killers. We can't trust killers to mete out justice. Ever."

Robin shifts in his seat, leaning his head back against the cushion. "All right," he says. "You're the boss. What's the plan?"

"To get there in time," Batman says, his foot pressing the accelerator into the floor.

— — —

"Harley Quinn, as I live and breathe!" exclaims the Joker. "I should have known you'd come charging to my rescue! Who's responsible for this transgression? Whoever they are, they know how to tie a knot, I'll give 'em that much! Was it Penguin? Ugh, not with those fingers . . . Was it Croc? It was Croc, wasn't it? That's why he's got me trussed up and dangling upside down like a side of beef! He was probably about to come in here and skin me alive, wasn't he? Thank god you showed up when you did, Harley-girl! Now, get me down from here and we'll see if we can find ol' Waylon a substitute entree. I was thinking his own dick, but I'm open to suggest–"

"I can't do it, Mistah J," Harley says, cutting him off.

"You can't do what?" the Joker asks, brow furrowed, seeming honestly confused.

"Cut you down," she says with a shrug. "Wouldn't make no sense."

"It makes perfect sense! You cut me down, you give me that gun in your hand, I go and find Croc, or whoever hung me up here – it was Croc, though, wasn't it? It had to be, the way he knocked me out like that, probably with one of those concrete ham hocks of his–"

"It wasn't Croc," Harley says. "And it was a mallet, not no ham hock."

The Joker stares up at her. He cocks an eyebrow. "Harley . . . are you trying to tell me that the person who did this to me . . . is the Riddler? Good for him! He's finally given up that silly puzzle gimmick and just started smacking people in the head with hammers! Can't say I approve of his taste in targets, but I suppose everyone deserves the chance to . . ."

Harley turns her back to him and starts to walk away.

". . . Harley?" he says.

"Don't make this more difficult than it already is, Puddin'," she says as she stops next to a large high voltage switch. She swings the switch up into the "on" position, and the room is suddenly bright with light.

The Joker blinks. The room comes into focus. Bare walls, stained wood floor, high ceiling with exposed beams. He looks up at his feet, follows the length of the rope, and realizes he's not hanging from the ceiling, but from the arm of a crane.

Harley's nowhere to be seen. He hears her footsteps somewhere to his left. He jerks to the side, manages to rotate himself around to face the crane. He catches a glimpse of Harley climbing into the cab just before the engine roars to life. A few seconds later, he's swinging across the floor. Then the floor is gone and he's dangling over a water tank.

"Harley," he says, voice swelling with anger, like a parent threatening to lose their patience with a child, "what are you doing?"

"Don't you remember, Mistah J?" she says, leaning out the side of the crane cab. "The Death of 100 Smiles. See?" She reaches inside the cab and smacks a button.

An instant later the Joker is underwater. Swimming all around him are red-bellied piranhas. From the Joker's upside-down vantage point, their downturned mouths all look like smiles.

This actually works, he thinks.

— — —

"Okay," Robin says as he drops to the roof, landing in a crouch, then rising and jogging over next to Batman at the edge, "what about this: why should we take this away from her?"

Batman doesn't turn his head, doesn't give any indication that he's heard a word. After a few seconds of still silence he says, "Take what away from her?"

"Her right to even the score," says Robin, "to give him some of what he's been giving her all this time." He looks down at the abandoned building that stands across the street from the larger, also abandoned building on which they're standing. "Is that her car parked in front of the old Fliehr Pools place?"

"That's it," says Batman, producing a small pair of binoculars from his utility belt. "And what you're talking about is vengeance."

"But doesn't she have a right?" asks Robin, turning to face Batman, leaning against the parapet. "If anyone does, she must. He ruined her life. Used her. Turned her into a criminal. I don't even want to think about what all he's done to her."

"And that means the law doesn't apply to her?"

Robin snorts. "See, I don't know how to react when you say things like that."

"Meaning?"

"Doesn't the law also apply to us?"

"Yes."

"And yet here we are!"

"That's right."

"But . . ." Robin shifts position again, turning his back to the old aquarium, resting his elbows on the top of the parapet. "We aren't cops. We aren't duly deputized officers of the law. We're here taking the law into our own hands, and we're about to step in and stop someone from doing the same thing. Doesn't that strike you as a bit inconsistent?"

"That doesn't concern me," Batman says. "We stop people who are taking the law into their own hands every day."

"Yes, I know, but she's in a unique situation. She's avenging herself on her abuser."

"Who else gets that privilege? If we allow her to kill her abuser when we might have prevented it, who else do we stand aside for?"

"I don't know!" Robin says. "What does it matter? You just said inconsistency doesn't concern you! So we make an exception!"

"No," Batman says, turning to face Robin. "We don't let people die if we can help it. Even if we think the world would be better off without them. Even if they wouldn't do the same for us. Even if they're the Joker."

"But why?"

Batman turns his attention back to the car. "Something's not right," he says after a moment.

Robin spins around. "What is it? That's the wrong car?"

"It's the right car," says Batman. He lowers his binoculars. "But what do you notice about the back seat?"

Robin pulls out his own binoculars and takes a look through the car's rear window. "I see . . . looks like packages of fish food."

"Where are the fish?" asks Batman. He clips his binoculars back onto his belt, steps up onto the parapet, and leaps down onto the sidewalk.

Robin drops down behind him. They cross the street. While Batman paces around Harley's car, Robin goes to the front entrance of Fliehr Pools. He examines the doors. No signs of them being forced open recently. He gives the handles a sharp tug. Locked tight.

"Maybe she went in through a rear entrance," Robin says, turning back toward the street. "But then why park out front? And why take the fish somewhere but leave the food?"

"She only grabbed the food because Hank said something," Batman says. "She didn't actually need it. She's not keeping the fish that long."

Batman kneels beside the empty parking spot right in front of Harley's car. He picks up a few bits of shattered autoglass. "She switched cars," he says. He stands, brushing the glass off of his gloves. "Makes sense," he says, looking overhead. "This whole area is in a blind spot. No CCTV."

"And no clue where she went from here," says Robin.

"If she's doing what I think she's doing, there's only one other place in this part of the city where she could go."

Batman jogs to the other side of the street, pulls his grapple gun and fires. Robin follows close behind him. Soon they're swinging high above the streets on batarang and line, making their way east, to the waterfront.

— — —

His breath is nearly gone now.

He hears a low thumping sound and twists around to see Harley knocking on the outside of the glass tank. She waves at him, then turns, skips back to the crane, scrambles into the cab, and lifts him out of the tank. The crane swings him away from the tank. He takes his breath in heaving gulps as he drips all over the floor.

"So!" Harley says, a bit out of breath herself after running over to him. "Did you get it?"

"I've got to hand it to you, Harl," says the Joker between gasps, "it's a pretty good effect. Of course, you really need to toss in some bait, or at least starve the little buggers for a good long while if you want them to–"

"Oh, I didn't want 'em to kill ya," she interrupts cheerfully. "I just wanted to show ya that I was right. This would have been the perfect way to kill Batman."

The Joker starts to speak, but stops short. He smirks. He looks to the side. He chuckles. "You know what? You're right. And when you're right, you're right. Not only are you right – I admire your commitment. Anyone who would go to these lengths just to prove themselves to me is someone I need to stick beside! So now that you've proven your point, my delicious little cyanide cupcake, come on over here and cut me down!"

"Still can't do it, Puddin'," Harley says, shaking her head.

"Oh, for the love of – Harley? I said it. Your plan would have worked. You win. Now, cut me down."

"So when Batman gets here, we can dunk 'im in the tank and sic the fishies on 'im?"

"Absolutely!" the Joker says, beaming. "We'll dunk Batman in the tank, and while the fish go to work on him with their little sharp teeth, I can push you up against the side of the tank and go to work on you with my little–"

"I don't believe you," she says.

"Which part?" he asks, puzzled. "The pushing you up against the tank bit? I'm serious about that! Maybe I'm just lightheaded from hanging upside down for so long, but this whole situation's got me randy as fuck!"

"That's not what I'm talkin' about."

"Well it should be," the Joker insists. "How long has it been since we made the ol' banana and cream sundae? Hey! We can even do that thing you like! What's that word you made up for it?"

"Foreplay."

"Yes! We can do some of that! I even trimmed my fingernails in the last week or so. Surely you noticed? When you were binding my hands?"

"You ain't gonna kill Batman," says Harley. "That's what I don't believe. If I thought you might, we wouldn't be here right now."

"Oh, come on, Harley, don't be stupid!" the Joker yells. "What difference does it make to you whether I kill Batman or not?! Also, just to clarify, Batman is definitely coming?"

Harley sighs. "I love you," she says. "That's what difference it makes."

She walks over to the crane and picks up her gun from the top of the rear wheel hub where she left it.

"It took me long enough, but I finally figured it out," she says as she starts back toward the Joker. "When you love someone, you want 'em to be happy. But I can't make you happy, 'cuz I ain't who you want. It's Batman."

"Batman?!" the Joker says, incredulous. "That's absurd! He's not even my type! He's way too beefy, for one. Terrible fashion sense, for another. I mean, really – horns? Bats don't even have horns! . . . Also, I do prefer blondes–"

"Look, you might as well fess up to it, Puddin'," Harley tells him. "I ain't mad. Sure, it hurts my feelin's, but I sympathize."

"What's that mean?" asks the Joker. "You've got the hots for Batman, too?"

"No," she says. "I know how it feels to spend years tryin' to get someone to notice you, to appreciate you, to love you back, but all they do is make you miserable. And you just can't let it go because . . . because you love 'em too much."

"Are you seriously suggesting that I'm in love with Batman?" the Joker asks. "Because that is the most warped and perverse and intriguing thing I've ever heard!"

"I dunno if it's love or what," Harley says. "I don't know what you want from Batman. I don't know if you even know. But I do know that whatever it is, he's never gonna give it to ya. This thing the two of you do is just gonna keep going, around and around and around like a wheel stuck in the mud. It's never gonna actually go anywhere."

"Well!" says the Joker, exhaling sharply. "This has been fascinating. You really have got me pegged, Harley! I feel understood like never before! I feel seen! Oh, sure, I know it's only the first step down a long, hard road, but I really think this is the start of something big for me. We've had a real breakthrough here, and now what I want most of all is to go to my room, crack open my journal, and write down all of these amazing insights so I'll have the benefit of their wisdom for years and years to come. So why don't we go on and head back home, and we can start by _**untying me! From this goddamn! Hook! On the end of this! Goddamn! Crane!**_"

"I can't do it, Puddin'," she tells him again.

"Why not?!" he yells. "For the love of pete, what do you want from me?"

"I already told ya," Harley says. Her eyes are starting to well with tears. "I want you to be happy. But that just ain't in the cards."

"Is that a pun?" says the Joker, cocking an eyebrow. "Because you know I hate puns unless someone dies right after . . ." His eyes move to the gun. "Oh."

"Yeah," she says, a bittersweet smile crossing her lips. "I do know." She points the gun at his head. "So long, Puddin'."

— — —

Robin is two steps behind Batman as they burst through the door.

The Joker is hanging by his ankles from the boom of a crane, hands tied behind his back. He's twisting gently at the end of the rope but otherwise isn't moving. There's a red-black pool of blood on the floor beneath him.

Harley is nearby, sitting on the lower steps of the ladder leading up to the crane's operator's cab, legs drawn up to her chest. A gun is on the step next to her. She doesn't touch it. When she sees Batman she calmly stands and steps out a few feet. "Hi ya, Bats," she says. She turns to Robin. "Bird boy," she adds cordially.

"Get her," Batman says as he moves to the Joker.

Robin approaches her cautiously, pulls her wrists behind her and binds them with a zip tie. He takes her by the elbow and marches her over to the base of the crane.

"He's cold," says Batman. He turns to face Harley. "He's been dead for hours."

"It's okay, ya know," Harley says as Robin zip ties her wrists to the handrail on the side of the ladder. "It's not your fault." Her eyes drift over to the Joker. "Thanks for tryin' to help him."

— — —

On the drive home, Robin folds his arms and turns to Batman. "Here's what puzzles me," he says. "You suspected what she was going to do as soon as we talked to Needles."

"Correct," says Batman.

"But it took you that long to work out that she took him to the old aquarium?"

"The evidence pointed to Fliehr Pools, where she changed cars," says Batman.

"So, she pulls a misdirect, and you fall for it hook, line, and sinker?" asks Robin, raising an eyebrow.

"I chose to follow the evidence instead of a hunch."

"Wasn't this the same aquarium where she tried the Death of 100 Smiles on you the first time?"

"Yes," Batman says. "It is."

"If we'd gone straight there as soon as we learned about her stealing the piranhas, we might have gotten there in time," Robin says. "Too bad you didn't follow your hunch."

The silence between them is heavy. "Sometimes the choice we make will be the wrong one. And when that happens, people get hurt. People die. That's why it's important to train, to be prepared, and to do the best we can. Always." His voice is softer than usual, and there's a rough quality to it that Robin hasn't heard before. "And even then, sometimes, it won't be enough. Do you understand?"

"Yeah." Robin faces front. "I guess so."

Harley had been quieter than he'd ever remembered, calmly assuring them that it was for the best. Her mouth had curled up at the corners in the smallest smile he'd seen from her, one that didn't make her eyes crinkle at the corners the way they always had. "Nobody hasta hurt any more," she'd said.

Robin remembers the way she stared at the Joker's body as it dangled lifelessly from the crane boom, and wonders if that's true.


End file.
